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THE WHITE HOUSE 


A STORY 


A. VOLLMAR 



ROCK ISLAND, ILL. 

AUGUSTANA BOOK CONCERN 






CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The White House 5 

David 77 

What Came oe Patty^s Peayer Ill 


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I. 

Journey not without a guide, 

Nor without a pilot sail ! 

Dangers great may thee assail; 

Seek God’s aid whate’er betide. 

“Miss Ulrica Bredenberg is hereby 
cited to appear in person at the court- 
house in B., on the 16th inst, at 10 a. 
m., to receive a legacy bequeathed to 
her by her brother who died in the local 
hospital on the 12th inst.” 

Such was the notice held in trem- 
bling hands by old Ulrica, whose dim 
eyes were now finishing a third reading 
of the document. 


5 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


‘‘So he has lived so long,” she mused 

— “and now he is dead! Not a word 
from him for forty years — and then 
to return home only to die. Hm, in 
the hospital, I see — so poor as all that! 
If he had only sent me a line, I would 
have fetched him here: in the ‘White 
House’ there is plenty of room both to 
live and to die. Poor creature! What 
do I want of the few rags that he left 

— they were welcome to keep them, 
I’m sure. But perhaps they need some 
money for the funeral expenses. I 
suppose he hadn’t a friend in all the 
world. Well, at all events, he’s got his 
old sister, and the least that she can do 
is to settle any accounts against his 
name.” 

So mused old Ulrica, sitting alone in 
her large well-appointed living room. 
Ever since the death of her parents 
6 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


many years ago she had lived a life so 
secluded that she had almost forgotten 
that she had a brother. And who can 
blame her? In forty years the grass 
of forgetfulness grows tall in the heart 
as well as on the grave, and these last 
thirty years, at least, Henry Breden- 
berg was commonly considered lost and 
dead. How strange that until a few 
days ago Ulrica really had a brother 
whose right it was to share the White 
House with herself! He must have 
been on his way to the old home — 
and now he was dead and buried! 

Ulrica set about to prepare for the 
long journey to B. For years she had 
not left the neighborhood of her se- 
cluded home. Rumors had come to 
her that railroads had been built along 
which iron monsters breathing out 
smoke and fire drew huge coaches at 
7 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


terrific speed, but not for the world 
would she intrust her safety to such a 
hideous contrivance. Better ac- 
quainted, then, was she with the post 
chaise; but as these were routed far 
from her home in the White House, 
she must needs travel on foot, as her 
parents and ancestors had done before 
her. 

The city of B. was five hours’ dis- 
tance from the village of Sagehorn 
where she lived. Early the next morn- 
ing Ulrica set out, and as she had no 
friends in B., she planned to make the 
round trip that day, even if she should 
not reach home before late in the eve- 
ning. She dressed warmly, therefore, 
and packed a basket full of provisions 
for the journey, thoughtfully adding an 
extra pair of shoes and stockings so as 
to appear as tidy as possible before 
8 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


the gentlemen of the courthousfe, who 
might otherwise suspect that both she 
and her deceased brother were pover- 
ty-stricken, thriftless persons. As she 
trudged along the road, she kept hop- 
ing that she would not encounter the 
iron monster with its smoke and fumes 
suggestive of the evil one. But she 
was doomed to disappointment, for 
just as she was approaching the suburb 
of B. the black monster came crashing 
and snorting from an opening in the 
mountain and exhaling a vast volume 
of smoke. 

Petrified from fear, Ulrica could 
only stand and gape as it appeared to 
bear right down upon her. But just as 
disaster seemed inevitable, it switched 
off to one side and disappeared. 

“Did you ever see the like!” Ulrica 
exclaimed under her breath. “The 


9 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

hideous thing is dragging along with 
it a whole string of little houses. It 
must have snatched them upon the 
other side of the mountain. There is 
the black hole from which it came.” 

As Ulrica proceeded on her way, 
she mused upon the strange sight, 
shrewdly suspecting that there must be 
a more rational explanation than the 
one that had occurred to her, though 
try as she would, she could not fathom 
the mystery. 

By this time she had entered the city 
where kindly disposed persons directed 
her to the courthouse. Here there was 
as much stir and bustle as in a dove- 
cote. Ulrica had some difficulty to 
find a quiet corner where she could set 
down her basket, put on clean stock- 
ings and shoes, and remove the stains 
of travel from her dress. There was 
10 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


more coming and going in this place in 
fifteen minutes than in an entire year 
at home. Letting her basket remain 
in the corner, she advanced into the 
hall where she waited patiently until 
her name should be called by the fine 
gentleman at the desk in front. 

At last someone called : ‘‘Miss Ulrica 
Bredenberg!” and not without some 
inward quaking she advanced to the 
desk. Here she was informed that her 
brother had recently arrived from Au- 
stralia; and as he was sick, he had been 
remowed to a hospital where he had 
shortly died after having named her 
as his sole heir. Ulrica stood listening 
to all this in silence, scarcely knowing 
whether she would have been glad to 
have her brother alive, or if she were 
sorry, now that he was dead. All these 
many years she had lived the life of a 
11 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

recluse in her great White House, her 
sole companions an old man-servant 
and an equally old maid. Round about 
here, her large estate lay as a huge 
burial ground containing all that she 
had prized in youth and even her youth 
itself. The passing of time had leveled 
the green mounds and dulled her hopes 
and ambitions; for she had lived for 
herself alone, giving no thought to the 
joys and sorrows of others, until now 
her lonely old heart was encrusted by 
the rust of selfishness and indifference. 
She was one of those unhappy mortals 
of whom it is written : 

“Woe him whom death o’ertakes to find 
Not one sweet deed of kindness done : 

A shattered pitcher whence mankind 
No cooling draught hath quaffed — not one!” 

The announcement of her brother’s 
death, therefore, left her heart practi- 


12 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


cally untouched. But as she prided her- 
self on being honorable in her dealings, 
she determined to pay any debts left 
by him. 

‘‘Are there any bills for hospital care 
or funeral expenses?” she inquired. “I 
am ready to make payment in full.” 

The fine gentlemen eyed her cu- 
riously as one of them said : “We have 
not summoned you to settle his ac- 
counts but to assume the inheritance he 
left you as his sole legatee.” 

“He did leave something, then?” she 
inquired. “Is it in such shape that I 
can take it with me?” 

“Certainly it is,” was the reply. 
“Here it is, $120,000 in drafts and let- 
ters of credit, and besides some gold 
coins that remained after paying hos- 
pital and funeral expenses. You are 
a lucky woman, and we congratulate 
you.” 13 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

Old Ulrica could not believe her 
ears. Her brother, who had been con- 
sidered a ne’er-do-well, had died a rich 
man! It seemed impossible. Poor 
brother, he had come home only to die, 
and she, it seemed, was entitled to his 
wealth! She did not notice that the 
eyes of all were turned upon her as if 
enjoying her amazement and awaiting 
an outburst of joy and gratitude. To 
judge from her appearance, the old 
woman seemed rather poverty-strick- 
en, and such a sudden access of wealth 
must be a tremendous incident in her 
life. 

But strange to say, no manifestation 
of joy was forthcoming; and when the 
money was proffered her, she thrust it 
violently aside declaring sharply: “I’ll 
not take the money! Do with it what 
you please.” 


14 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Now it was the gentlemen’s turn to 
be astonished. A poor old woman who 
refused an inheritance which to her 
must seem colossal! Wonderingly they 
wipe their glasses the better to observe 
such a prodigy. 

“But, my dear lady?” one of them 
remonstrated, “money is something for 
which you can always find some use.” 

“No use, whatever!” she exclaimed. 
“I have more than enough for food 
and clothing, and every nook and cran- 
ny of my house is packed with fur- 
niture. I won’t be bothered by any 
more money than I already have!” 

No amount of persuasion seemed to 
have any effect on Ulrica. Repeated- 
ly the gentlemen assured her that they 
had no right to the money, and that 
she must take it with her. 

“That I will not!” she positively de- 
15 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


dared. “There are so many evil-mind- 
ed persons who would rob and kill me 
for the money on my way home. What 
use have I of this wretched money? 
Tell me thatl Deposit it in the sav- 
ings bank, you say? Very well, then, 
if you will arrange the matter for me 
so that I will not be bothered with it.” 

To her intense relief and pleasure 
one of the gentlemen, the president of 
a savings bank, promised to take the 
matter in hand and send her a deposit- 
or’s book from the bank. 

“A depositor’s book!” she exclaimed. 
“I’d be afraid to keep it in the house! 
I’ll thank you to keep that for me, too.” 

The gentlemen shake their heads 
over her ignorance in money affairs, 
but finally prevail upon her to accept 
$48.00 so that there Vould be a round 
sum to deposit in the bank. 

16 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


With manifest reluctance Ulrica 
accepted the money, muttering, “I have 
more money than I need already. What 
shall I do with $48.00?” 

But thanking the gentlemen for their 
kindness in lifting off this heavy bur- 
den from her shoulders, she turned to 
leave the room, a look of relief and 
pleasure lighting up her wrinkled old 
face. 

A new cause for anxiety, however, 
awaited her. When she reached the 
corner where she had so carefully de- 
posited her basket of provisions, she 
discovered that it was gone, stolen! 

“Who would think that there were 
such wicked people in the world?” 
sighed Ulrica, who a moment before 
had been ready to relinquish a fortune, 
but who now severely felt the loss of 
her basket. 

17 


The White House. 2 . 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Away in a city where all were 
strangers, ready to rob her of life and 
property! But first she must visit her 
brother’s grave. Upon inquiry she 
learned that it would take her an hour 
J:o reach the cemetery, so she decided 
to postpone her visit until some other 
time, as she was growing anxious to 
start for home. She had no desire to 
prolong her stay in the city any longer 
than necessary. The very houses that 
lined the narrow streets seemed ready 
to topple down upon her. Oh, that she 
were only safely home again! To think 
that she had been lured so far from 
home on an errand that concerned her 
so little. For the last twenty years she 
had not strayed far beyond the limits 
of her own estate. She fondly hoped 
that she would reach it again before 
nightfall. 


18 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


As she proceeded on her way, she 
took no notice of the shop windows 
with their alluring attractions; she had 
no eye for the fresh biscuits and shin- 
ing sausages that might have supplied 
her with a hearty meal ; no craving for 
food assailed her; one desire only filled 
her heart — to get away from the ter- 
rible city and to reach home in safety. 

So she trudged on and on through 
the seemingly endless streets. Surely, 
the city seemed larger now! Would 
she never reach the country? With a 
sigh of relief she reached the outskirts 
of the city at last. Trees began to ap- 
pear, and here and there a patch of 
potatoes ; but somehow the way seemed 
unfamiliar. Pangs of hunger began 
to assail her, her feet grew leaden as 
she dragged them along the highway, 
and to cap the climax of her troubles, 
19 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


the evening twilight was setting in, 
while as yet the road stretched endless- 
ly before her! 


II. 

“Keep thy garments free from stain, 

And thy hand and heart alway 1 
Fear thy God, and e’er refrain 
From desires that lead astray.” 

In the suburbs of B., where the hous- 
es were few and scattered, a small cot- 
tage was occupied by superintendent 
Gahn and his large family. Though 
still called superintendent he was so 
only in name. Formerly he had man- 
aged a large estate, but the owner had 
gone into bankruptcy^ and now for a 
year past Mr. Gahn had found himself 
without steady employment and often 
without bread. He had tried to ob- 
tain positions on other estates, but no 


20 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


one seemed willing to make room for 
a man with a wife and eight children. 
So he had moved to B. in hopes of 
better opportunities for work. But 
even here ill fortune seemed to pursue 
him. Odd jobs here and there fur- 
nished a scant and uncertain means of 
support for his large family. No won- 
der, then, that care and sorrow were 
sprinkling his hair with gray, and 
causing his steps to grow heavy and 
lagging. His splendid wife and dear 
children exerted themselves to keep his 
courage up, but try as they would, the 
anxious question kept thrusting itself 
upon them: “How are we going to 
manage for a living?” 

Was it, perhaps, the same question 
that cast a gloom over the countenance 
of eight-year-old Anna? Ordinarily 
she was all smiles and sunshine, but 


21 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

to-day her eyes had a furtive look. 
She started and grew pale and red by 
turns, if anyone addressed her. What 
could have changed her so? 

The following will possibly serve as 
an answer to the question. All the 
children in Anna’s school had agreed 
to send a letter of congratulation to 
their teacher on her approaching birth- 
day, and for this purpose each was to 
furnish a fine sheet of linen paper cost- 
ing five cents. 

Anna together with a girl friend 
somewhat older than herself had gone 
to the book store to make her purchase, 
but had there discovered writing paper 
ever so much finer and prettier than 
that which they had come to secure. 
These finer sheets, however, cost ten 
cents a piece. While the two girls 
lingered over their purchase, the store- 


22 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


keeper turned away from them to wait 
on other customers. 

“Come,” said Anna’s friend, “let us 
take this fine paper instead of the 
other.” 

“But I have only five cents,” Anna 
declared. 

“So have I,” whispered her naughty 
friend, “But that makes no difference. 
All we have to do is to place the fine 
paper between the folds of the cheaper. 
The man will never notice it, and we 
will get two sheets for the price of 
one.” 

“But that would be stealing!” whis- 
pered Anna, startled by her friend’s 
proposal. 

“What of it? He would never mind 
the loss.” 

“But stealing is sin,” Anna persisted. 


23 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“Sin? What nonsense! It can’t be 
sin to afford your teacher a pleasure.” 

“But I am so afraid!” said Anna 
with a shudder. “What if Mr. Frisk 
should notice it?” 

“Then we will tell him that we didn’t 
know there were two sheets.” 

“But, Sophy, then we would be ly- 
ing as well as stealing,” Anna quavered. 

Just then Mr. Frisk came up to the 
children and inquired pleasantly: 
“Well, my little friends, have you 
found what you were looking for?” 

Sophy nodded and said: “Yes, we 
want these two sheets. Please wrap 
them up at once, as we have waited 
here longer than we should.” 

Poor Anna stood as if rooted to the 
floor. But Sophy sent her a sharp look 
and said: “Come, Anna, hand over 
your money!” 


24 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


With trembling hand Anna placed 
her coin upon the counter. Mr. Frisk 
handed over the package with a friend- 
ly aod, and Sophy caught Anna by the 
arm and dragged her forcibly from the 
store. When they were safely in the 
street Anna began to cry and declare 
brokenly: “I don’t want the fine pa- 
per! Please, Sophy, let me return it 
to Mr. Frisk!” 

^‘No you don’t!” mocked Sophy. 
“Now it’s done, and we are the gainers. 
And let me tell you one thing, Anna, 
if you ever say a word about this to 
anyone, something terrible is going to 
happen to you.” 

“What will happen?” was Anna’s 
anxious question. 

“You’ll soon find out! Besides, I’ll 
tell the teacher that you received help 


25 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


in your writing lessons. So you had 
better keep mum.” 

Anna was no heroine and was, there- 
fore, easily silenced by the more res- 
olute Sophy. 

Sophy left her with a parting threat: 
‘‘Now don’t go about with a long face 
as if you had killed somebody. You 
know what you’ll get if you give us 
away.” 

Poor little Anna tried to control her 
feelings, but the stolen paper burned 
her hand as she carried it, and frantic 
with dread she rushed back to Sophy 
crying: “Take it, Sophy, take it! I 
can’t keep it. Mama would find out 
in a minute — she knows how much 
money I had.” 

“Give it here, then!” snapped So- 
phy. “It isn’t going to bother me any.” 

Sadly and with lagging steps Anna 
26 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


started for home. How gladly would 
she have unburdened her heart to her 
mother, but she dared not betray her 
friend — dared not become a tattler. 
At home she sat down to write her let- 
ter of congratulation with quaking 
heart, but tear after tear rolled down 
her cheeks and made ugly blots upon 
the paper. Full of sympathy, her 
mother offered her another coin to buy 
some more paper, but this Anna ab- 
solutely refused to do. Never, never, 
would she set her foot inside Mr. 
Frisk’s store again; never could she 
look him in the face, for he would be 
sure to read in her own face that she 
was a thief. A more terrible day Anna 
had never spent. She could not even 
eat her supper but went to bed early, 
followed by many anxious inquiries 
from her mother if she were sick or felt 


27 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


a pain anywhere. Her cheeks were 
glowing red, and the good-night kiss 
she gave her mother was burning hot. 
O, if she only dared to tell the whole 
sad tale! Then all would be well 
again, and she would willingly suffer 
any punishment to be rid of the awful 
anguish that filled her heart. But if 
she told, something awful would hap- 
pen, and besides, it is shameful to be- 
tray a friend. All the school children 
would point her out as a tattler. 

“Say your prayer now, my child,” 
urged the mother, “and the good angels 
will watch over you while you sleep.” 

Trembling, Anna folded her hands 
and began: 

“I am weary and would sleep 
In Thy care, O Father dear; 

For Thine eye its watch doth keep 
Over all both far and near. 

If I’ve sinned this day, forgive” — 

28 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Poor little Anna thrust a corner of 
the quilt in her mouth to keep from 
crying aloud. Well she knew the sin 
she had committed, and the only atone- 
ment of which she seemed capable was 
tears. For the first time in her life 
she had something to conceal, some- 
thing she could not even tell her moth- 
er. Tearfully musing on this, she fell 
at length into a troubled sleep. 

The next morning did not bring the 
sunshine back into her life. Her 
teacher’s birthday and the pleasant 
words she spoke to Anna only served 
to increase her wretchedness; and So- 
phy’s threatening glances were like 
darts piercing her heart. Suddenly it 
occurred to her that if she could place 
ten cents on Mr. Frisk’s counter with- 
out his knowledge, full atonement , 
would be made. But how was she to 
get the money? 29 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


She had heard that other children 
sometimes went without their break- 
fast in order to secure a little spending 
money, but she doubted if her mother 
would agree to such a plan, and at any 
rate she would be sure to ask what her 
little girl wanted the money for. No, 
she must hit upon some other plan. 
All this worry and anxiety, however, 
left their marks on Anna’s face, which 
grew pale and haggard. It was fortu- 
nate that her mother was so busy that 
day that she did not notice this state of 
affairs. Anna dreaded the approach 
of night, and the thought of bed and 
evening prayers. 

But just at dusk a fortunate circum- 
stance caused Anna to forget her trou- 
bles for a time at least. An old wom- 
an came staggering by the house and 
stopped to lean against the wall as if 
30 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

unable to proceed. Full of pity, Anna 
had been watching her from the win- 
dow, and when the exhausted wander- 
er seemed about to fall, Anna rushed 
out and lent her the support of her 
frail arms. Then she darted back into 
the house to fetch a chair. With a 
sigh that was almost a groan the old 
woman sank into the chair saying 
feebly, “Not another step can I take. 
Haven’t you some coffee and food to 
give me?” 

Attracted by Anna’s actions, Mrs. 
Gahn now appeared upon the scene, 
and seeing that the pale old woman 
was about to faint, she said kindly: 
“Come, let me help you into the house 
where you can rest and refresh yourself 
with some food.” 

The old woman, who seemed rather 
sullen, readily accepted the invitation. 

31 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

Anna and her mother conducted her 
into a chamber where she could lie 
down and rest a while. Presently fra- 
grant coffee and buttered rolls were 
brought in, which Ulrica — for it was 
she — greedily consumed without a 
word of thanks. On the contrary, when 
she had finished her repast, she re- 
marked grouchily: “That butter is 
adulterated and not fit to eat.” 

Dumb with amazement, Mrs. Gahn 
could only stand and look at her strange 
guest. 

“What a shabby little room this is!” 
the genial guest continued. “I wouldn’t 
want to live in a place like this.” 

Mrs. Gahn admitted that her quart- 
ers were rather narrow, and that she 
had often wished for better accommo- 
dations for herself and children. 


32 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“How many children have you?” 
Ulrica snapped. 

“Eight,” was the reply. 

“And how many rooms?” 

“Three.” 

“What, three rooms! Not even 
enough to house eight cattle!” the wom- 
an retorted. 

In such pleasant manner Ulrica en- 
tertained her hostess, who was secretly 
wondering when the strange guest 
would get up and depart. Suddenly 
Mrs. Gahn noticed that the old woman 
had fallen asleep so soundly that it 
seemed a pity to wake her. Where was 
she bound for so late in the day? She 
had told them that she was from the 
country, and a total stranger in the city. 
No doubt, the long walk had been too 
much for the old woman. Mrs. Gahn 
prepared a bed for her guest, which 
33 


The White House. 3. 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


she could the more easily do as her 
husband would be away for the night, 
and Anna would have to crowd in with 
the other children. Silently Ulrica 
accepted all these services as if they 
were nothing more than her due. 

Pretending to sleep, she slyly watch- 
ed Anna’s preparation for bed. As for 
herself, she kept her clothes on, only 
removing her shoes, remarking as she 
lay down: “I hope to goodness I’ll 
not be robbed during the night!” 

Terror-stricken, Anna began to moan 
and sob, for the old woman had eyed 
her so sharply, as if she had already 
discovered that Anna was a thief. Had 
Mr. Frisk told her, or had she read it 
in Anna’s face? That night, too the 
poor little girl sobbed herself to sleep. 

The next morning Ulrica again ac- 
cepted the kindly services and food of 
34 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Mrs. Gahn, but without the least show 
of gratitude. When she had finished 
her breakfast, she inquired for the 
nearest road to Sagehorn. 

“Sagehorn?” Mrs. Gahn exclaimed. 
“If you are going to Sagehorn, you 
must go back through the city. Is it 
the village or the mill of Sagehorn that 
you are bound for?” 

“Neither,” snapped the old woman. 
“I live in the White House.” 

“O, I see,” Mrs. Gahn replied. “You 
are working there, I suppose.” 

After a moment’s hesitation Ulrica 
nodded assent. 

^‘Then you can travel half of the way 
by railroad,” Mrs. Gahn remarked. 

“By railroad!” cried the old woman. 
“A contraption of the evil one! I hope 
I know better than to commit such a 
sin. Only set me on my way home, 
35 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


and I’ll be thankful that I haven’t fall- 
en into the hands of bandits in this 
wicked city.” 

Such were the thanks Ulrica return- 
ed for kindly services rendered. With 
a sigh of relief Mrs. Gahn sent Anna 
to guide her on the right road to Sage- 
horn. 

It was Sunday morning, -and Anna 
was glad that she would escape going 
to church, for she feared that the min- 
ister would be sure to point her out as 
a thief. 

Almost cringingly she walked along 
by Ulrica’s side, little suspecting that 
her companion’s sharp old eyes saw 
much more than Anna wanted them to 
see. When they had left the city be- 
hind, Ulrica asked in a tone of unusual 
gentleness what was the matter with 
her little companion. Instantly Anna 
36 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


noticed the chance, and as instantly did 
her troubled heart respond to it. All 
the while the poor little girl had been 
seeking some loving heart into which 
she might pour her troubles, and she 
felt instinctively that, sullen though 
her companion seemed, she was at heart 
of a kindly disposition. Besides, Anna 
reflected, her old companion lived so 
far away that Anna’s sad story would 
not be likely to return to cause her 
trouble. 

When Ulrica put her question, they 
were resting a moment by the wayside. 
Sudden tears sprung into Anna’s eyes, 
she flung her arms closely about her 
old companion’s neck and poured out 
the sad story of her sin. N.ever before 
had Ulrica felt the soft touch of a 
child’s arms about her neck, never be- 
fore had she looked so deeply into eyes 
37 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


pleading for loving sympathy. In an 
instant her crusty old nature became 
soft as wax, and she was ready to min- 
gle her tears with those of the little 
girl, though the whole matter seemed 
to her so trivial and childish. 

“There, there, my little friend,” she 
said soothingly, “you have only to re- 
pay the man for his loss. Here, take 
this and pay him, and I am sure he 
will be satisfied.” 

Thereupon she slipped into Anna’s 
hand a wonderfully large gold coin, 
the like of which she had never before 
seen. The little girl eyed the shining 
coin with some misgivings. She would 
much rather have gotten a 2S-cent 
piece. But the strange woman had said 
that all would be well, and Anna trust- 
ed in her word. At the moment of 
parting Ulrica patted Anna’s soft cheek 
-38 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


with calloused hand and bade her a 
friendly farewell. Anna hastened back 
toward the city, while Ulrica plodded 
thoughtfully on her way. 

It being Sunday, Mr. Frisk’s store 
was closed, so Anna had to wait until 
the next day. She had made up her 
mind to place the coin on the counter 
and slip out without saying a word, 
but this plan failed, for Mr. Frisk saw 
her enter and came forward to inquire 
what she wish to buy. Then the whole 
sad story burst form her quivering lips, 
or rather her own part in it, for she did 
not implicate Sophy. Then she ten- 
dered Mr. Frisk the coin wrapped in 
paper, and begged him to forgive her. 

Without looking at it, the good man 
took the coin saying: “There, my dear, 
we will let the matter rest and forget 
all about it; but you must never do 
39 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

so again! Think how sad your parents 
would be if they knew.” 

No, never, never would she do so 
any morel Oh, what anguish she had 
suffered because of that wretched sheet 
of paper! But now even the good Lord 
would know that she had made atone- 
ment for her sin. Oh, she loved the 
good old lady who had helped her! 
Now all would be well. Sophy could 
do her no harm, for she had not be- 
trayed her, and no one would ever 
bring the matter up to trouble her 
again. 


40 



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Where had Anna obtained the twenty dollar gold 
piece? Page 43. 



THE WHITE HOUSE 


III. 

“For good thoughts open wide 
The chamber of thy heart. 

There sin may not abide ; 

Bid evil to depart!” 

Poor little Anna, however, was 
doomed to disappointment. For on the 
afternoon of that same day a very so- 
lemn Mr. Frisk called on Anna’s moth- 
er. After a long consultation apart, 
Anna was summoned. Her poor little 
heart almost stopped beating from fear. 
Alas, for the wretched sheet of paper 
that still persisted in haunting her. But 
the mother touched only lightly upon 
this. A much more serious matter re- 
quired a satisfactory explanation. 
Where had Anna obtained the twenty 
dollar gold piece? 

So it was twenty dollars! The 
thought made Anna breathless. Such 
43 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


unheard of wealth had never before 
been in her possession! Without eva- 
sion she related how she had received 
it from the old woman who had visited 
them. 

“She must have made a mistake,” 
Mrs. Gahn declared. “It is unnatural 
to suppose that a poor old servant wom- 
an would be giving away so much 
money. I will see to it that the money 
is returned to her.” 

It troubled Anna to think that Mr. 
Frisk was not to be paid for the sheet 
of paper, but he declared that he was 
content to let the matter rest without 
payment. 

“Fetch the paper, Anna,” Mrs. Gahn 
directed. “Perhaps Mr. Frisk will be 
good enough to take it back.” 

Now, at last, the truth must out! 
Rather than another attempt at con- 
44 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


cealment or falsehood Anna would 
gladly suffer all the evil Sophy had 
threatened her with. So Anna made 
a clean breast of it, and Sophy’s share 
in the theft was a.t last revealed. 

“Sophy is a bad girl,” Mrs. Gahn 
declared. 

“And she will come to a bad end, I 
fear,” Mr. Frisk added. 

With quaking heart Anna stood 
awaiting the reproach and punishment 
she felt that she so richly deserved ; but 
her mother only said : “My poor little 
girl, you have already received your 
punishment, and I am sure you will 
never again be guilty of taking what 
does not belong to you.” 

“Never, never again!” was the silent 
vow in Anna’s heart. What a burden 
was lifted from her heart! How bright 
the sun ; how blue the sky! Spring was 
45 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


coming, and Anna had never been so 
happy in her life. 

On the following day Mrs. Gahn set 
out by rail and on foot to pay a visit 
at Sagehorn. She had often heard peo- 
ple speak of the White House. A rich 
old lady was said to be living there, a 
woman who never associated with her 
neighbors, never had a kind word for 
anyone, and never invited anyone into 
her house. When Mrs. Gahn came in 
sight of the place, she was astonished 
to see how large the house was. 

“To think,” she exclaimed under her 
breath, “that a lone old woman occu- 
pies a mansion like that! If our family 
of ten only had one fourth of the ac- 
commodations of that house, we would 
be happy indeed!” 

She knocked at the door, and after 
a moment’s waiting was admitted by 
46 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Ulrica herself, who eyed her visitor 
with far from friendly looks, 

“Haven’t I always said,” she mut- 
tered under her breath, “that there 
isn’t a living soul free from meanness 
and self-seeking! Here this woman 
comes to demand payment for the small 
services she rendered me.” 

Mrs. Gahn was not invited to be 
seated, so she inquired rather timidly 
if Ulrica had time to see her a moment, 
and if her mistress would be displeased 
if she received a stranger. These 
words caused a wonderful change in 
Ulrica’s attitude; and her wrinkled old 
face lit up with pleasure when Mrs. 
Gahn produced the gold coin, saying 
that she had come to return it, as a 
mistake had evidently been made in 
giving it to Anna. 


47 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“Who says that a mistake was 
made?” Ulrica demanded. 

“My reason tells me,” Mrs. Gahn 
replied, “that a servant is hardly in a 
position to give a twenty-dollar gold 
piece to a child.” 

“Mm! I seel But you had fed and 
housed me, you know,” Ulrica sug- 
gested. 

“If I had wanted pay for that, I 
would have told you so,” Mrs. Gahn 
declared. “We are always glad when 
the good Lord gives us an opportunity 
to do a small service to anyone.” 

A 'dose observer would have noted 
the flash of joy that illumined Ulrica’s 
face at these words, but all she said 
was: “Would you like to look over 
the White House?” 

“Gladly,” Mrs. Gahn replied, “if 
your mistress would not object.” 

48 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


mistress!” Ulrica cried scorn- 
fully. “Never you mind my mistress, 
but come along!” 

Mrs. Gahn was shocked by Ulrica’s 
harshness, but yielded to a desire to 
examine the house. What large cham- 
bers and roomy corridors, and, oh, 
what a splendid kitchen ! And to think 
that all these comforts were enjoyed by 
a lone old woman! Not without a 
feeling of envy Mrs. Gahn viewed the 
splendor of the place. She saw the 
green trees peeping in through the 
open windows; she took deep breaths 
of the balmy spring breezes, and 
thought sadly of the three small bare 
rooms where her own family of ten 
must live and work and eat and sleep. 
But when she looked out through the 
window and observed the flower beds, 
the blooming fruit trees with twitter- 
49 


The White House. 4. 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


ing birds flitting from branch to 
branch, her feelings overpowered her, 
and she leaned her head upon the win- 
dow sill and wept. 

^‘What’s the matter with you?” Ul- 
rica asked harshly. 

“Pardon my foolish tears,” sobbed 
Mrs. Gahn. “But my heart grows sad 
and bitter when I see all these comforts 
and beauties of nature apparently go- 
ing to waste, and remember that every 
inch of space in my own little home is 
filled to overflowing by my own dear 
children and our poor belongings. You 
can’t imagine what it would mean to 
my children if they had a garden like 
this one! How I would like to see 
them flit about among trees and flow- 
ers as the happy birds are doing now! 
As it is, the street is their only play- 
ground.” 


50 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


‘Why don’t you buy a home in the 
country, then?” Ulrica asked curtly. 

“It takes money to buy a home,” 
sighed Mrs. Gahn. “Try as he will, 
my poor husband can hardly earn 
enough to keep us in food and clothing. 
The city doesn’t agree with him, as 
until recently he has lived all his life 
in the country, and would like nothing 
better than to return to it. But who 
will give a home and work to a man 
with a wife and eight children?” 

Having grown calmer, Mrs. Gahn 
accompanied Ulrica on a further tour 
of inspection. At last she could not 
refrain from exclaiming: “Why don’t 
you make butter and cheese here? And 
why don’t you keep a vegetable garden 
and put all these acres and acres of idle 
land under cultivation? It would be a 
great source of income to your mis- 
tress.” 51 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“She has more money now than she 
knows what to do with,” snapped Ul- 
rica. 

“So!” exclaimed Mrs. Gahn incred- 
ulously. 

“Yes, she has,” Ulrica retorted. 
“There are piles and piles of money 
hid away in old stockings and battered 
chests all over the house.” 

“How happy and contented she must 
be!” sighed Mrs. Gahn. 

“Who?” 

“Why, your mistress, Miss Breden- 
berg, of course.” 

“She, happy and contented!” hissed 
Ulrica scornfully. “That old witch is 
as mean and. grumpy as she can be. 
Why, there isn’t a person in the world 
that she can get along with because she 
is so cross and ugly. A withered old 


52 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


hag like that — how to you suppose 
she could be content and happy?” 

“Overwhelmed and terrified by 
words so full of bitterness, Mrs. Gahn 
could only exclaim: “But aren’t you 
speaking of your mistress, Miss Bre- 
denberg?” 

“Of course, I am,” Ulrica declared. 

“But certainly you must have much 
to thank her for!” Mrs. Gahn con- 
tended. 

“I have nothing in the world to 
thank her for!” Ulrica retorted. “She 
has never shown me or any other per- 
son any kindness, and has never known 
a day of happiness in her life. So far 
as I know she has never uttered a kind 
word to a living soul !” 

Ulrica had spoken so eagerly that 
she did not notice that Mrs. Gahn now 
stood confronting her with eyes that 
53 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


flashed angrily, and to her utter amaze- 
ment she was now overwhelmed by a 
flood of angry words. 

“Aren’t you ashamed of 'yourself !” 
Mrs. Gahn cried. “You who are tot- 
tering on the brink of the grave, you 
do not hesitate to slander your mistress 
before a perfect stranger. What you 
have told me cannot be true, and even 
if it is, you who have served her so long 
should be the last one to repeat it. 
Have you entirely forgotten the fourth 
commandment in your catechism? My 
little Anna could tell you that we are 
commanded not to despise our super- 
iors, but to speak well of them. I want 
nothing more to do with you! I pity 
your rich old mistress as well as your- 
self. The mistress who is served by 
hateful, slandering servants is poor in- 
deed, even if she does live in a grand 
54 



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*'Good-J)ye to you, and I hope you will have a change 
of heart before it is too late” Page 57. 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


house surrounded by all the beauties 
of nature. Good-bye to you, and I hope 
you will have a change of heart before 
it is too late.” 

With these words Mrs. Gahn rushed 
from the house. When the gate latch 
clicked, Ulrica, who all this time had 
stood there silent and dazed, straight- 
ened up and burst, as never before, into 
a peal of merry, joyous laughter. 

am free to confess,” she mur- 
mured, ^hhat I have never been spoken 
to with such frankness before. Why, 
I actually believe that she left the gold 
coin behind her! That speaks well of 
her, I must say. They must really be 
nice people to give a poor servant wom- 
an food and a night’s lodging without 
any expectation of reward. The little 
girl, too, is a sweet child, and need not 
have cried her eyes out over a wretched 

57 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

sheet of paper. And the mother is an 
honest soul to come all this way to re- 
turn that miserable coin. But what 
I liked best of all was that she told me 
the naked truth to my face, and even 
grew angry because I slandered Miss 
Bredenberg, that is, myself! That was 
fine of her, and I richly deserved what 
I got! What good is the White House 
or all my wealth to me when there is 
no one in the world to love me or to 
miss me when I’m gone? My two 
servants, of course, are well enough, 
but they are paid for what they do, and 
do no more than they are paid for. 
All this wealth, and not a penny of 
it can I take with me when I die. Nor 
do I want to, for I have never really 
cared for the trash. Trouble and wor- 
ry it has cost me, and not a single mo- 
ment of real happiness. And who is 
58 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


to get it all when my time comes? The 
woman told me that I was tottering 
on the brink of the grave. It’s high 
time, then, that I was thinking about 
the future, about the salvation of my 
soul!” 

Within eight days Miss Ulrica Bre- 
denberg again made her appearance in 
the city. Ordinarily years elapsed be- 
tween her visits. Again she sought 
the courthouse and the savings bank 
where the inheritance from her brother 
was deposited. All were kind and 
considerate to the strange woman who 
tried her best to refuse a fortune. After 
a lengthy consultation official looking 
papers were drawn up and properly 
signed and sealed. While this was tak- 
ing place Ulrica’s old face grew bright- 
er and happier, and the learned gentle- 
men grew more cordial. After all was 
59 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


finished, Ulrica had a private word 
with the president of the savings bank. 
A listener might have heard the words, 
^‘May 22nd”, and, “a large, roomy 
wagon”, expressions which seemed to 
have nothing to do with the business 
of a savings bank. 

Cordially the gentlemen bade her 
farewell ; and as she departed, she over- 
heard the following bit of conversa- 
tion: 

^^She seems a great deal younger than 
she did two weeks ago.” 

“Yes, indeed, happiness makes us all 
younger.” 

Ulrica turned with a pleasant nod 
to the men and withdrew through the 
door. 

Shortly thereafter she knocked at the 
door of the Gahn cottage. Mrs. Gahn 
opened the door and somewhat coldly 

60 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

inquired what she could do for her 
visitor. 

‘‘You intimated, I believe, that it 
would do your children good to have a 
whiff of fresh country air, and so I 
have come to ask you if you will let 
Anna stay with me over the Whitsun- 
day vacation days.” 

Shaking her head, Mrs. Gahn re- 
plied : “I am much obliged to you for 
the invitation, which, I feel sure, you 
mean as a kindness ; but I am afraid it 
can’t be done.” 

“Why not, I should like to know? 
Ulrica asked somewhat sharply. 

After a moment’s hesitation Mrs. 
Gahn replied soberly: “I’ll be frank 
with you. I am unwilling to intrust 
my child to one who would be likely 
to teach her evil thoughts or words.” 

“I see,” replied Ulrica, “and you 
61 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


fear that I am the one to do that. But 
let me promise you one thing: Anna 
shall take no harm at my hands. You 
told me yourself that I was tottering 
on the brink of the grave. Listen, 
then! I will make Anna my heir. All 
that I have shall be hers when I die.” 

Mrs. Gahn extended her hand as if 
to ward off a threatening evil, and 
said: thank you for your good in- 

tentions, but I can’t intrust my child to 
your hands. Her soul is more precious 
than all your belongings, for what 
would it profit my little girl to gain the 
whole world, and lose her soul?’’ 

Sadly Ulrica made ready to depart, 
but turned to say: “I will not waste 
any more words on you, but I — we will 
meet again.” 

So Ulrica departed, while Mrs. 
Gahn stood there wondering if the 
62 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


parting words concealed a threat. Or 
perhaps the harsh words were uttered 
to conceal tender feelings and disap- 
pointed hopes! 

Had she unjustly wounded the feel- 
ings of the strange old woman? 

IV. 

“Far from all the world’s wild turmoil 
In my peaceful home I live 
LoVe and bliss as blushing roses 
Me their fragrance freely give.” 

A bright and lovely day in May! 
In the Gahn cottage all the members 
of the family are in commotion. Word 
had come from the president of the city 
savings bank that he would arrive at 
9 o’clock that morning with two large 
wagons to transport the entire family 
to the White House at Sagehorn where 
matters of importance were to be trans- 
acted. 63 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


What could it all mean? Or what 
had they done? Even little Elsa, not 
yet two years old, was to go along! 
What in the world was about to take 
place? Mr.^Gahn had called upon 
the president to obtain particulars, but 
he had departed none the wiser, except 
that he was advised to have his family 
ready at the appointed time. 

“Miss Bredenberg’s reputation as a 
good woman *is none the best,” re- 
marked Mrs. Gahn. 

“Yes, IVe heard queer stories about 
her,” admitted her husband. “But we 
will have to let matters take their 
course. The trip costs us nothing, and 
the worst that can happen is that we 
have a little outing in the country on 
this beautiful May day.” 

Promptly at 9 o’clock the expedition 
set out; twelve persons in all, for the 
64 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

president was accompanied by an of- 
ficial looking gentleman with a white 
necktie. These two together with the 
four oldest children occupied the first 
conveyance, while the parents and the 
four younger filled the second. 

“Apparently the gentlemen wish to 
avoid questions,” remarked Mr. Gahn. 
His wife was much perturbed. She 
felt that a ctisis in their lives had come. 
Was it to be for better or worse? 

When at length they came opposite 
to the extensive tract surrounding the 
White House, the farmer instincts of 
Mr. Gahn asserted themselves. 

“Look at that!” he cried. “Fields 
and meadows gone to weeds; the or- 
chard neglected and trees untrimmed. 
Such mismanagement is a disgrace to 
anyone.” 

“But look at the flower beds and the 
^5 


The White House. 6. 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


beautiful bird house!” cried one of the 
children. 

“Ill-kept like the rest!” Mr. Gahn 
retorted. “Miss Bredenberg does not 
seem to have taken much pains with 
her beautiful estate. Just think what 
could be done with it by a man who 
knew his business.” 

By this time they had turned in 
through the gates and stopped before 
the main entrance to the White House, 
It was not Ulrica but another old wom- 
an who met them at the door and con- 
ducted them into the large living room. 
Here chairs were set out for the entire 
company. An air of expectancy seem- 
ed to prevail. Ulrica was sitting in 
the far corner of the room. Mrs. 
Gahn with Elsa on her arm stepped 
forward to greet her, her eyes the while 
vainly searching for the mistress of the 
66 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


house. Little Anna, who had just dis- 
covered her old friend, rushed forward 
and climbing into her lap wound her 
arms about Ulrica’s neck, while the 
latter silently stroked the flaxen hair of 
the little girl. 

When all were seated the president 
called upon the other gentleman, a 
notary, to read the document he held 
in his hand. Breathless silence fol- 
lowed. The document was brief, but 
so great a change did it work in the des- 
tinies of the Gahns that years seemed 
to have elapsed since they entered the 
room. Was it really the same old sun 
that shone in upon them, or was it a 
radiance from heaven itself? Was the 
garden, bathed in the May sunshine, 
a bit of paradise, and was the White 
House sedately occupying its stable 
position or capering about in circles? 

67 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Yes, the White House was indeed 
stationary, though by virtue of the 
document it had changed owners. It 
now was the property of little Anna to 
be held in trust by her father until she 
became of legal age. 

So stunning was the news as to be 
unbelievable as yet! But where was 
the donor of this magnificent gift? The 
president explained that she was an 
elderly lady without legal heirs, and 
that this deed of gift was an expression 
of her positive desire in the matter. 
She only reserved for herself the right 
to occupy together with her maid two 
rooms in the east wing of the house. 

^^But where is she now?’’ Mrs. Gahn 
stammered. 

^There!” the president declared 
dramatically, pointing a finger at Ul- 
rica whose wrinkled old face shone as 
if transfigured. 68 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“You — you!” gasped Mrs. Gahn. 

“You — you,” echoed Ulrica extend- 
ing her hand, “you told me the naked 
truth and won my heart!” 

“And you are not a poor servant 
woman?” stammered Mrs. Gahn in- 
credulously. 

“It was you who imagined that,” 
declared Ulrica. “Just the same, every 
word I said was true, for Miss Breden- 
berg was as low and mean as I declared 
her to be.” 

“Low and mean — never!” declared 
Mrs. Gahn, flushing with shame that 
she had ever harbored such thoughts 
of Ulrica. “But how did you ever 
come to think about a plan like this?” 

“Well, you see it was like this,” Ul- 
rica declared. “I heard you express a 
desire for a home of your own, and the 
White House has always been a burden 
69 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


that I would gladly be rid of. When 
you were unwilling to give Anna to 
me, a thought occurred to me : ‘Better 
all than none at all!” 

Again Mrs. Gahn blushed furiously 
as she stammered: “But now that I 
know you for what you really are, An- 
na is free to come and live with you.” 

“And so I hope she will,” Ulrica de- 
clared, and leading Mrs. Gahn aside 
out of earshot of the children, she 
added: “You see, I’m going to try to 
be good. Hitherto I have loved nei- 
ther God nor man, but if God prolongs 
my life I want you to teach me to do 
both. By judicious inquiries I have 
learned that your husband is an expert 
farm manager who will soon place the 
estate on a paying basis; and that you 
are "a good Christian woman and the 
mother of well-trained, dutiful chil- 
70 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


dren. Then the thought occurred to 
me that I owed it to the White House 
that the patter of little feet and the 
merry laughter of children should be 
heard within its old walls. As for my- 
self, when I want quiet and seclusion 
I will withdraw to my own rooms in 
the east wing.” 

‘‘As for you,” continued Ulrica, 
turning to Mr. Gahn, “I leave you in 
full charge of the estate. Whatever is 
lacking in worshop or stable — and for 
years the estate has been sadly mis- 
managed — I will supply from my 
private funds which are more than am- 
ple for my few remaining years.” 

“Yes,” the president remarked in an 
undertone to the notary, “she has never 
set any store by money, and now she 
is pouring it out with both hands. I 
would never have consented to the 


71 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


transfer of the estate, had I not reserved 
for her own use the $120,000 deposited 
in my bank.’’ 

The notary nodded and said : 
^‘Stranger things than this have hap- 
pened, and the White House might 
have fallen into less worthy hands.” 

The surcharged hearts, the transport 
of happiness, the deep sense of grati- 
tude to God — all this can only be re- 
alized by those whom God has granted 
a home of their own, or whose hearts 
are so filled with love that they can 
rejoice in the good fortunes of their 
fellow men as though they were their 
own. 

As one in a dream, Mr. Gahn 
strolled about through orchard, barn- 
yard and fields, musing as he went: 
“Can it really be true that I am at last 
to eat my own bread in my own house! 

72 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


How I will work for them all! The 
strength and courage of youth has come 
back to me.” 

Meanwhile Mrs. Gahn was roaming 
over the house, she, too, musing: ‘Tn 
these rooms my children will sleep, in 
those, work and play; in this light, 
cheerful kitchen I will prepare the 
meals, and by that vine-draped window 
I will sit and do my sewing. Dear 
God, I am unworthy of all Thy good- 
ness and mercy!” 

Then the mother followed her chil- 
dren out into the grounds surrounding 
the White House. 

“See, mama,” cried one, “aren’t those 
lilies of the valley? And there is a 
cherry tree all covered with white 
flowers, and I do believe there are 
small cherries, too.” 

“Nonsense!” declared another scorn- 


73 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

fully. “There aren’t any white cher- 
ries.” 

Joyous exclamations are heard from 
all sides: “Mama, there is a bed of for- 
get-me-nots! Aren’t these acorns, ma- 
ma? Oh, see the birdhouse! Sh! I 
see a little young one peeping out 
through that little window. O, mama, 
don’t these flowers smell sweet!” 

As in a trance the mother sees and 
hears it all. She laughs and weeps by 
turn and presses the children, one after 
the other, to her heart. Then she hast- 
ens to Ulrica and clasps her in a close 
lingering embrace, the mother heart of 
her too full for words of gratitude. 

And Ulrica? For the first time in 
many long, weary years large tears — 
tears of joy and gladness — trickle 
down her wrinkled cheeks. 

“Children, children!” she cried. 

74 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


^‘My course is almost run, and I am 
just beginning to know what life 
means! For more than thirty years 
lonely and poor, and now, oh, how 
rich! To think that I never knew 
that there were so many good people 
in the world! Anna, my own dear 
child, where are you?” 

Wonderingly Anna hastened to her 
side. All that the little girl could un- 
derstand was that she and the others 
were to live here always, and that her 
parents were very happy. 

^^Anna, my brave and honest little 
girl,” said Ulrica, ‘‘you will try to love 
me a little, won’t you? Come, read to 
me something from the Good Book; 
it’s time that I were learning what it 
has to say to me!” 

“Go fetch the Bible from the shelf 
in the other room,” whispered the 
75 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


mother, ^‘and turn to the 84th psalm.’’ 

Anna complied, and while the other 
children were wandering about the 
grounds, she recited in a clear voice the 
sacred words to old Ulrica, who re- 
clined in her armchair with hands de- 
voutly folded. ' 

“How amiable are thy tabernacles, 
O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth, 
yea, even fainteth, for the courts of the 
Lord; my heart and my flesh crieth 
out for the living God. 

Yea, the sparrow hath found an 
house, and the swallow a nest for her- 
self, where she may lay her young, 
even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my 
King and my God. 

Blessed are they that dwell in 'thy 
house; they will be still praising thee.” 

“Amen! So be it!” murmured Ul- 
rica Bredenberg. 


76 


DAVID 

{^'‘'‘Greater love hath no man - 

BY 


A. WOI.I.MAR 




The mother was sitting in her lowly 
cottage home sadly resting her head 
against the open palms of her hands 
while unshed tears glimmered in her 
eyes. David, her only child, stood be- 
fore her urgently pleading: “Dear 
mama, here is the picture of the flood; 
please tell me again the story about 
how I was saved from the water.” 

But to-day the mother does not look 
up, nor is she in the mood to repeat the 
story. 

Perhaps, dear children, you would 
like to know who David was; where 
he lived ; why his mother was so sad ; 
and what later happened to her little 
boy? 79 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


From your study of geography you, 
no doubt, know that the river Weser 
flows through a long stretch of northern 
Germany and empties into the North 
Sea. But you may not have learned 
that the Weser is a naughty, unreliable 
river that often leaves its bed and over- 
flows its banks causing havoc and de- 
struction to the fields and villages 
along its course. It is a fearful sight 
to see the mighty flood burst from its 
banks. Hardly a house is then left 
standing, and the poor villagers must 
flee in terror to higher ground to escape 
a watery grave. Many are the victims 
swept away to their death when such a 
flood sets in. 

To curb this turbulent river great 
dikes of earth and rock have been built 
along the dangerous stretches of its 
course. These dikes are higher than 
80 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


the ordinary high water mark of the 
river, and behind these Ae inhabitants 
live in comparative safety. But not al- 
ways! Occasionally when the moun- 
tain snows to the south melt suddenly, 
the river rises higher and higher and 
sweeps onward as if eager to pour its 
waters into the sea. But in the north 
winter still reigns, and thick ice covers 
the river hindering its flow. Then 
dangerous ice gorges are formed, dam- 
ming the river bed and hurling great 
cakes of ice against the dikes. If these 
break, ruin and death follows in the 
wake of the flood. 

The small village in which David’s 
parents lived was situated about a mile 
from the river behind one of the great 
dikes that line its banks. One spring, 
when David was still an infant, the 
Weser had risen to the danger point 
81 


The White House. 6. 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


by the breaking up and gorging of the 
ice. Day and night the villagers kept 
guard on the dikes, repairing the 
breaks, strengthening weak points, and 
increasing its height with sandbags. 
Then one evening Mr. Kohler, David’s 
father and a tailor by trade, came home 
from his turn of duty on the dike, satis- 
fied that all danger was past. 

‘‘We can sleep in peace to-night,” 
he declared. “The river is high, but it 
will not overflow the dike this time.” 

No, over the dike it did not flow, 
but it had discovered a weak spot in 
the dike, and against this it hurled its 
mass of water and ice until the dike 
tottered and broke in spite of the fran- 
tic efforts of the villagers. At mid- 
night Kohler was awakened by the 
alarm bell from the church tower only 
to find his house surrounded by the 
82 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


flood which was already sweeping over 
his threshold. 

“Climb to the garret!” he cried wad- 
ing knee deep to arouse his wife. All 
chance of flight was gone. Together 
the parents carried David in his cradle 
up the garret stairs; and when the 
house tottered at the onslaught of the 
flood, they continued their climb to 
the roof. There they sat trembling 
with fear and cold while all about 
them houses toppled, men and women 
shrieked, and cattle, bawling fright- 
fully, were swept away into the night. 
Still the flood continued to rise. Wave 
upon wave dashed against the frail 
cottage ; if it gave way all three seemed 
doomed to certain death. 

Suddenly Mr. Kohler heard the 
bleat of his goat struggling for life in 
the water. He was just reaching out 
83 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


his hand to pull it to safety upon the 
roof when the crest of the flood struck 
the house. It tottered and collapsed 
flinging the occupants of the roof into 
the water where they sank just as a 
rescuing boat appeared upon the scene. 

When Mr. Kohler and his wife re- 
gained consciousness, they found them- 
selves safely in the village church, 
which,, standing on rising ground, had 
escaped the fury of the flood. 

But where was David? Had no one 
seen and rescued their child? Was 
their little baby boy now sleeping the 
sleep that knows no waking, and would 
his little body be found when the wild 
flood receded? 

So the poor parents waited as the 
flood slowly abated. By midday all 
further danger was past, the dikes were 
hastily repaired, and the Weser, still 
84 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


rumbling angrily, was confined within 
its banks. 

The Kohlers had suffered a loss of 
all their possessions, and yet this catas- 
trophe they esteemed as less than noth- 
ing in comparison with the loss of little 
David. 

Imagine their joy, then, when that 
evening some men, who had searched 
the river valley far and wide in hopes 
of rescuing people in distress, returned 
triumphantly with David and placed 
him safe and sound in the arms of his 
happy parents. 

Lying in his cradle, David had been 
carried as in a boat on the crest of the 
flood to a low hill covered with blatk- 
thorn bushes now almost submerged 
by the waters. A blackthorn had just 
opened its eyes to the call of spring 
and was peeping out from the water 
85 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


when it beheld the cradle with its pre- 
cious burden sailing by. Eagerly the 
bush reached out its arms and held the 
cradle fast. David lay fast asleep in 
his cozy bed, but when the sun’s bright 
eye looked down on him, he awoke and 
began to cry, and it was long past time 
for his morning meal. But unfortu- 
nately the blackthorn had no food to 
give him. It could only gently rock 
the cradle until David’s eyes again 
closed in sleep. Toward evening the 
bush observed two men approaching. 
It ceased to rock the cradle. David 
awoke and began to cry lustily for the 
meals he had been deprived of since 
the night before. Thus it came about 
that David was discovered and restored 
to his overjoyed parents. Many an eye 
grew moist with tears, and all agreed 


86 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

that God’s good angels had watched 
over and preserved the child. 

“Surely,” the father often declared, 
“David will amount to something in 
life, otherwise he would not have been 
saved as by a miracle from the flood!” 

This was the story that David wished 
his mother to tell, and that he never 
tired of hearing. But to-day the moth- 
er could not tell it; she could only 
weep, for David’s father had died a 
few days before leaving the wife and 
mother almost heartbroken. 

“May David become something bet- 
ter than a tailor like his father!” the 
father had sighed even on his deathbed. 
Gladly would he have given his child 
the best in life, but now death would 
deprive him of a father’s privilege to 
plan and labor for his son. 

The bereaved wife treasured her hus- 


87 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


band’s dying words and often sighed: 
‘‘My poor little lad, you have no one 
but your mother now, but mother will 
do her very best to care for you.” 

Mrs. Kohler was a strong and capa- 
ble woman, and not afraid of work. 
And, indeed, it was necessary for her 
to work untiringly in order to support 
herself and David. She soon discov- 
ered, however, that by spinning she 
could not make both ends meet, so she 
became a washerwoman. There were 
many families in the village that gladly 
employed Mrs. Kohler to do their 
washing. This, of course, made it 
necessary for mother and son to be sep- 
arated from each other many days out 
of the week, for she had to depart 
while David still lay asleep and did 
not return until sundown. This was 
a great hardship to both David and his 
88 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

mother, however much Mrs. Daniels, 
a kind neighbor of theirs, endeavored 
to care for the boy while the mother 
was away. The one bright day of the 
week was Sunday. When David then 
awoke, breakfast was cooking on the 
stove, and he would heartily partake 
of the meal, drinking real coffee from 
a cup with a gold stripe around the 
rim. Then the mother would help 
him put on his Sunday best, and at nine 
o’clock they would go hand in hand to 
church where there was so much to see 
and hear that he seldom fell asleep. 
Then there was the Sunday dinner, the 
best meal of the week, when David 
would beguile his mother with spirited 
accounts of the week’s happenings. If 
the afternoon was fine, they would take 
a long walk through field and forest 
On rainy Sundays the large illustrated 
89 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


family Bible was brought forth, and 
the mother would relate the grand old 
sacred stories to her son. Best of all 
David liked the story of King David. 

“Mother,” he would ask, “how small 
was David? Was he as big as I? Will 
I be a king, too, when I have killed all 
the Philistines?” 

“There are no Philistines now,” the 
mother informed him; “and besides, 
Jesus bids us to love all our fellow 
men.” 

“Will I be a king if I love all my 
fellow men?” David persisted. 

“No, my child, you know very well 
that we have a king.” 

“But what will I be then?” 

“A good and upright man, I trust,” 
replied the mother, “but this only if 
you are very, very good.” 

To be good and obedient, that was a 
90 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


lesson dinned into David’s ears daily, 
and, indeed, he tried to learn that les- 
son well. But there were other things 
he wished to learn. Often he cast long- 
ing eyes at the children coming from 
the school across the village street from 
his window. How he yearned to be- 
come one of them! 

One day he suddenly resolved to go 
to school. So he picked up a piece of 
slate fallen from the roof and joined 
the other school children without say- 
ing a word to anyone. The kind old 
schoolmaster he already knew, and of 
him he was not afraid. But to-day the 
master eyed him wonderingly. 

‘Well, David my lad,” he asked, 
“what do you want to do at school?” 

“Write,” declared David calmly, 
seating himself among the other chil- 
dren. 


91 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


‘^You, three cheeses high! You are 
too small, I am afraid.’’ 

David did not understand about the 
cheeses, but he understood that some- 
how he didn’t belong there. He wished 
to say something real convincing to 
prove the contrary, but he could only 
sob dolefully. 

^‘You know my father is dead.” 

^^Yes, poor lad,” the rnaster replied, 
“and your mother is away all day long 
at her work. Well, if you will sit real 
still, you may stay.” 

So it came about that David began 
school when he was only four years old. 
When school was out, he would often 
remain with his teacher, take long 
walks with him along the dikes, help 
him in his garden, or amuse himself in 
his chamber. Stirring were the ac- 


92 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


counts he had to tell his mother of his 
adventures, when evening came. 

So seven years passed. David was 
much taller now, and though not a 
strong and robust boy, he was the pride 
and joy of his mother’s heart. If she 
at times grew sad, the thought of her 
son consoled her, as with him by her 
side she was not entirely alone in the 
world. To the old schoolmaster David 
was as a son, making such marked 
progress in his studies that his teacher 
often declared that there was nothing 
more that he could teach him, and that 
David ought to continue his studies in 
an advanced school. Nothing would 
have delighted David more, for he was 
very fond of his books and had talents 
for study. 

Mrs. Kohler often thought of her 
husband’s dying wish that David 
93 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


should become something better than 
a tailor, and one day she mentioned 
this to the schoolmaster. 

dear Mrs. Kohler,” the old 
man warned, “remember that the great- 
est thing that David can become is a 
child of God.” 

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Kohler re- 
plied; “but as God saved him so mirac- 
ulously from the flood, he must intend 
to make something great of him.” 

“Perhaps,” the old man said, “God 
saved his life in order to make it serve 
some good purpose to others. David 
has a kind and loving heart, and the 
Good Book says, ‘Greater love hath no 
man than this, that a man lay down his 
life for his friends.’ ” 

It was on a raw, cold day of spring 
that David celebrated his eleventh 
birthday. In honor of the day his 
94 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


mother had remained home from work. 
Their little home was cozy and warm, 
but no warmer than the hearts of moth- 
er and son. For on this very day David 
had successfully passed his entrance 
examinations to the high school, and 
after the Easter recess he would take 
up his studies there. 

“God willing,” his old friend, the 
schoolmaster, declared, “you will some 
day enter the university.” 

David passed his birthday as in a 
dream. For next to mother and teach- 
er his best friends in all the world were 
his books. With his mind’s eye he saw 
before him a pleasing vista of happy 
school days when he would delve deep- 
ly into the lore of books, and then, one 
day, he would become a teacher, or a 
doctor, or perhaps a pastor! His moth- 
er, he firmly resolved, should live with 
95 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


him and never do another day’s work 
in her life! He would be the one to 
work, and mother would sit all day 
long in an easy-chair enjoying the ease 
and quiet she had so richly earned. 
How happy they would live their lives 
together 1 

Thus mother and son sat silently 
musing upon the future. At last the 
former broke the silence to say: ^‘Oh, 
if your father had lived to see this 
day!” 

There was a sudden knock at the 
door, and their neighbor, Mrs. Daniels, 
stepped in. 

“David,” she said, “will you do 
something for me, if it isn’t asking too 
much of you on your birthday?” 

“What is it?” David inquired, 
springing up from his chair. 

“Perhaps you know that my husband 
96 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


is doing guard duty on the dikes to- 
day?’^ answered Mrs. Daniels. 

“Is the water very high?” Mrs. 
Kohler inquired. 

“No, not too high ; but there is much 
ice in the river, and the men must keep 
a watchful eye on the dikes. My hus- 
band is on duty till twelve o’clock to- 
night. I have prepared a warm lunch 
which I would like to have David 
bring him. It’s so cold out there by 
the river.” 

“Yes,” said David’s mother hesitat- 
ing, “and it is already growing dark.” 

“That makes no difference, mother,” 
David declared. “I will go at once 
and be back in time for supper.” 

“No, my boy,” objected Mrs. Dan- 
iels, “you must eat first, for it’s a long 
way going and coming, and you need 
a warm meal before you set out.” 

97 


The White House. 7 , 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


So David hastily ate his supper and 
prepared to depart upon his errand. 
His mother was quite reluctant to let 
him go — perhaps because it was his 
birthday. But it did not occur to 
either mother or son to refuse the re- 
quest of their kind neighbor. So David 
put on his warm coat, picked up the 
lunch pail, and hurried off saying: 
“Good-bye, mother! I’ll be back in 
two hours.” 

Left alone, Mrs. Kohler was plunged 
into a happy reverie, utterly forgetful 
of the biting cold without and the 
danger threatening from the river. 
Warmth and sunshine filled her heart, 
and happy memories bloomed like 
fragrant blossoms in her soul. She 
opened the battered old chest in a 
corner and from a drawer plucked a 
withered wreath — her bridal crown 


98 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


of long ago. O, if he were only with 
her now! If he could only know what 
a great and learned man their David 
was to become! In fancy she already 
saw her son in the pulpit and heard 
the winged words of his sermon. The 
church was packed with people, 'but 
she sat humbly in a corner, an atten- 
tive listener. It would not do for her 
to crowd to the front, for was not the 
pastor her own son David? Mother 
joy and pride almost overwhelmed her 
at the thought. But sounding persist- 
ently through her reveries were the 
sacred words that David loved to re- 
peat: “Greater love hath no man than 
this, that a man lay down his life for 
his friends.” 

Suddenly the clock struck eight. 
The sound recalled Mrs. Kohler to the 
actualities of life. She replaced the 
' 99 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

myrtle wreath and delved deeper into 
the contents of the chest. There on the 
very bottom lay a number of silver 
dollars, bright and shining as the moth- 
er love that had toiled so hard to earn 
them. Piece by piece she let them 
glide through her fingers with never a 
thought of her chapped hands and bent 
back. Joy and pride were the emo- 
tions that filled her heart. Her David 
was not entirely without means. There 
was money here for books and clothing 
for her boy. And what she had done 
for him in the past, she would still be 
able to do for him in years to come. 
For him no labor was too heavy, no 
sacrifice too great. The time would 
come, so he had solemnly declared, 
when her busy hands would rest, when 
he would work for her. Again she 
lost herself in bright dreams of happi- 
100 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


ness to come. The light from the lamp 
grew dim, it flickered and died out, 
but she did not notice it, for sleep had 
overtaken her where she sat waiting — 
waiting. 

Round about her stillness and dark- 
ness reigned. 

Meanwhile, where was David? 
Hurrying along as fast as he could, 
he quickly reached the place on the 
dike where his neighbor Daniels stood 
on guard. The hot lunch had grown 
cold, but this was soon remedied over 
the fire blazing on the dike. A shrill 
whistle summoned the nearest guards 
who hurried up with chattering teeth 
and joined their neighbor in the warm 
and grateful refreshments. On the 
dikes everything seemed safe and in . 
good order. The river was still slowly 
rising, but no danger was apprehended. 


101 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“You are a fine lad, David, and I 
am much obliged to you,” said Mr. 
Daniels as he prepared to resume his 
turn on guard. 

“O David,” called one of the men, 
“my beat is on your way home. Take 
a look at it as you go by so that I can 
stay here awhile and warm my chilled 
bones at the fire.” 

David readily promised to do so. 
The moon had risen and was spreading 
its pale light over the swelling water, 
the great dikes, and the lone boy home- 
ward bound. By this time he was 
chilled through ; it was foolish of him, 
he realized, to have lingered, so long 
near the fire. Nevertheless he was true 
to his promise to keep an eye on the 
dike for any sign of crumbling or 
fissure. Well he knew that even the 
smallest crack might cause ruin and 


102 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


disaster to the entire river valley. The 
story of his own miraculous rescue 
from the flood was too deeply im- 
pressed upon his mind to allow him to 
forget even for a moment the danger 
that threatened. But that night all 
seemed safe, and David, too, as his 
mother at home, began to dream golden 
dreams of the future. First years of 
faithful study, then a home of his own 
in which his dear mother should reign, 
while he as doctor or pastor was help- 
ing his fellow men by word and deed. 

Suddenly foot and thought both 
came to an abrupt halt. A sound o'f 
trickling water came to him through 
the night. A hasty examination re- 
vealed a narrow crack through which 
a pencil of water spurted down the 
side of the dike. David pressed his 
hand to the crack and stopped the flow. 

103 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


What was he now to do? Well he 
knew how rapidly the water would 
enlarge the fissure if left unchecked* 
A single hour would suffice for the 
flood to burst its way through the dike 
and bury beneath its raging torrent the 
fields and villages throughout the val- 
ley. Alas, that such a calamity again 
threatened his mother, his beloved old 
teacher, and all his friends and neigh- 
bors! 

Some way must be found to avert 
the danger. But what could he do? 
Again he pressed his hand against the 
crack, then sprang upon the dike and 
called frantically for help. But no 
one heeded his call, and he could find 
nothing to fill the gap. Wherever he 
looked water and frozen ground alone 
met his gaze. He hastened back only 
to find to his horror that now the water 


•104 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


poured forth so strongly that he could 
not stem it with his hand. Desperately 
he jerked off his coat and crammed it 
into the opening. Then he again 
rushed along the dike toward the 
watchfire calling aloud for help. But 
no one heard him. O, if he only had 
a signal whistle to summon aid! At 
the thought he thrust his stiff fingers 
into his mouth and whistled shrilly. 
Still no response! He dared not re- 
main longer away from the point of 
danger. Returning, he found that the 
pressure of the water had forced the 
coat from the crack. Again he cram- 
med it home and leaned his back 
against it to keep it in place. That 
helped, and the flow stopped. Only 
within the dike he seemed to hear the 
faint rumble of water. 

No guard came to his aid, or heard 
105 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

his cry for help. There was nothing, 
then, for him to do but to remain — to 
endure the cold that was .creeping to 
the very marrow of his bones. As his 
strength waned, a sudden panic seized 
him, and he was about to leap up and 
hasten home. But no! The flood 
would burst the dike and sooner than 
himself reach his mother, his dear 
mother all unaware of the threatening 
danger. Fighting thus for strength 
and courage, he heard the clock in the 
church tower strike eight. Above him 
the twinkling stars of heaven seemed 
to whisper to his soul : “Greater love 
hath no man than this, that a man lay 
down his life for his friends.’’ 

Sudden exaltation swept over him. 
No longer could he fold his hands, 
but from his heart arose a prayer to 
God: “Help me, God, to endure the 
106 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


cold, to keep the water back till help 
arrives, even if I die.” 

With dimming eyes he noticed that 
the flow had stopped. His head sank 
upon his brave breast. He was so 
tired; he must sleep awhile. — 

There was a knock at the cottage 
door, and Mrs. Kohler started from 
her sleep. Several men stepped into 
the room. As yet but half awake, she 
sat and stared at them. Suddenly with 
a cry of anguish she saw that they were 
bringing her son, her David! After 
repreated explanations by the men it 
slowly dawned on her that the guards 
had found David frozen to death in a 
gap in the dike. The coat which Da- 
vid’s slender body had held in place 
had stopped the flow, and her brave 
boy had given his life to save his moth- 
er and the rest. 


107 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


The anguished cries of the mother 
could not call to life her heroic son, 
her life’s sole joy and treasure. Sleep- 
ing, he had gone to be with Jesus, who 
had given His life for him. 

The people of the village streamed 
to the poor washerwoman’s home. All 
wished to cast a last look on David and 
in their hearts to thank him for the 
greatest of all sacrifices that he had 
made. Sorrowing they stood beside 
the mortal remains of the brave young 
lad whose love had proved itself strong- 
er than death itself. 

^^He has not lived in vain,” sobbed 
the old schoolmaster, ^^and has in truth 
become something great! He has 
preached to us all a sermon on love 
such as no one else.” 

On earth the brightness and the joy 
of life had departed from the heart of 
108 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


David’s mother. But this she knew, 
that in a higher life she would again 
be with her son, if, like him, she per- 
sisted in a life of sacrifice and love. 

On the simple tombstone over Da- 
vid’s grave are inscribed the words : 

^‘Greater love hath no man than this, 
that a man lay down his life 
for his friends.” 


109 


What Came of Patty’ 

Prayer 





• • t 








PART 1. 

“Dear me! I should so love to live 
in the country; do you think we ever 
might, Patty?” 

Patty Dinsmore, with face between 
her hands, seemed away off somewhere 
in thought, as Daisy Dare, her twin, 
suddenly asked the question in a wist- 
ful tone. The two had lived, since they 
could first remember, with their grand- 
mother, in a large tenement house, high 
above the narrow street on which it 
opened. 

They had never known the joy of a 
yard, not even a tiny plot of ground be- 
longed to the tenement, front or back — 
113 


The White House. 8 . 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


only a brick stair led down to the pave- 
ment. Here, they often sat, on long 
afternoons with Grannie’s permission, 
drinking in what little of fresh air 
floated down the narrow street between 
buildings. “Dear me!” Patty at last 
spoke, using Daisy’s very expression 
unconsciously. “I think so, Daisy, 
though it seems no nearer at present. 
We must keep on hoping, you know, 
Daisy Dare.” 

“If just a fairy godmother might 
come, Patty; all in a chariot you know 
— with bells ringing, and a footman to 
climb down and throw the door wide 
for us — Granny first, of course, then, 
you and I, following, Patty — to ride 
away — away.” 

Daisy paused breathless; her fairy 
dream growing so fast, that words for 
the moment failed her. 


114 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“You little goosie,” Patty was not 
sober now, “you have been reading too 
much lately. There arenH any fairy 
godmothers in the world, really, Daisy 
Dare — just in books, you know.” 
Then she, too, paused, wishing that 
Daisy’s imaginative tale might be true. 

“I would so love to see Granny in a 
black silk though, looking the real lady 
that she is!” Daisy had been groping 
for some comforting words from Patty, 
for she depended upon her cheery twin 
to encourage her in the wonderful 
dreams that they had so often planned 
on the old tenement steps together, with 
only a tiny space of blue sky smiling 
down from above. 

“But there are such things as god- 
mothers, Patty — there isn’t any use 
at all for you to try and make me be- 
lieve that there arent — only last night, 
115 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Granny was telling me of one we had 
when we were babies, and so, of course, 
we can’t remember; but she lived all 
the same, and Granny said she had 
been her best friend and that she was 
rich, and sweet and loving — and O ! 
lots of things I can’t remember now; 
I got sleepy about that time, but the 
last thing I remember her saying was, 
that we had lost her^ and she had lost 
us, when we sailed away off over here. 
There, Patty, you were asleep, and did 
not hear; but it was all true, and there 
are godmothers — see?” Patty nodded, 
as Daisy Dare gave her a sudden punch 
to “make sure” she was not sleeping 
right then, and to arouse her into an 
answer. 

“Of course, Daisy Dare; I never 
said there weren’t, you know; I only 
said that about fairy godmothers — 
116 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


the kind that ride in golden chariots — 
that kind that you have been reading 
about in your fairy book!” 

Long after Daisy had gone in, Patty 
sat on watching the dusk creep into the 
street, and the familiar figures coming 
by from their work, homeward bound, 
with light step; for even though the 
surrounding alleys were crowded, after 
all it was “home” they were going to! 
The little girl on the step gave each a 
bright smile and nod of greeting, as 
they passed, for her heart was full of 
love for all. 

“I wish each of you might have a 
lovely place to live some day — dear 
people,” she half whispered, “and 
sometime Fm sure you shall, even if 
you have to wait until you get to Heav- 
en.” Patty paused, then turned her 
face upward, toward the twinkling 
117 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

stars that shone so high and far away, 
between the tall buildings. There was 
a puzzling conflict going on within her 
brain for sometime Patty’s heart ques- 
tioned ^‘why?” 

It would be so lovely to live far ofip 
in green fields somewhere; in the coun- 
try where Granny and Daisy so longed 
to go ; and to be able to take all of the 
tired people that she had learned to 
care for, as they passed each evening to 
and fro. She had been so engrossed 
with the thought that she failed to hear 
a footstep nearby, until a gentle hand 
was laid upon her shoulder. 

“A penny for your thoughts, dear,” 
Grandmother Dinsmore said : ‘‘Are 
you star-gazing, my child? Daisy has 
finished her supper and gone to bed, 
while I have been waiting for you.” 

“Oh, Granny, I’m sorry to have kept 
118 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


you; you see, I have been w^ishing — 
wishes — out here, for you, and Daisy, 
and my poor people.” 

“Little kind heart! — your good 
thoughts have engaged you so long a 
time; then small wonder you forgot 
the everyday world.” 

“They may not have been good. 
Granny; I was wondering too why 
some people have so much and others 
so — little. It seems to be so unfair.” 

Grandmother Dinsmore was silent 
then, and she too looked up to the far- 
away stars before answering. 

“ ‘The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall 
not want — ’ ‘My times are in Thy 
hands.’ Patty, dear, promise me that 
you will not forget those beautiful 
words.” Then very quietly she turned, 
and left her; the little old lady whose 
faith had never failed through all the 
long years. 119 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

Alone, Patty dropped her head — 
Granny was right — they were all His 
people, pot hers — His green fields, 
and flowers, and birds, and love; the 
Good Shepherd who cared so tenderly 
for His sheep. Daisy and Patty had 
just been studying the psalm! Sud- 
denly a sweet smile lit up Patty’s face. 
She knew what to do now^ and every 
night that was to come. The little girl 
clasped her hands together joyously, 
for she was not afraid any morel 

PART H. 

“Patty, you seem so happy these days 
— almost as if you knew a lovely secret 
that you are hiding from Granny and 
me to burst out with some day, and sur- 
prise us.” 

Patty Dinsmore smiled across the 


120 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


table at Daisy, as she suddenly laid her 
book down to look over and make the 
remark. “I am happy, Daisy Dare — - 
why not? Aren’t people usually happy 
when they look for good things to hum 
up,’ Granny?” 

^‘Yes, dear — ,” the old lady paused 
in her work by the window to look oyer 
at the children at the table — one wide- 
eyed and questioning, the other content 
in doing the small task she had set 
about to accomplish. 

‘‘I think Patty might tell us, if she 
knows a secret — don’t you. Granny?” 

‘^I’m willing to wait, dear.” 

Daisy Dinsmore sighed. 

^‘That makes me think of a story in 
here,” she said, laying down her book. 
“There were two girls, one lived in a 
grand palace, but nothing seemed to 
make her happy, while the other one. 


121 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


who lived in a cottage across the road, 
was always cheerful. ‘How do you 
keep so happy on so little?’ the girl 
from the castle asked one day, as they _ 
met outside the gates. ‘Fm always ex- 
pecting something good to ‘turn up’; 
while in the meantime I am content in 
doing the small daily tasks. The world 
has its beautiful side, why not live on 
the side toward joy?’ The girl of the 
castle was silent; she looked down at 
her silken robe, and then to the other’s 
simple gown. ‘Let us exchange,’ she 
said, ‘and you live my life awhile, and 
I live yours.’ But, the other one shook 
her head quickly. ‘We were only 
meant to live our own lives,’ she re- 
plied, ‘and to be content. Come, fol- 
low me through my task to-day — then, 
perhaps to-morrow, you will be ready 
to pick up your part, and go on 
alone!’” 122 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


Daisy paused, and put aside the book. 

“I hope the girl of the castle found 
the ^Joy Road’ too — do you think she 
did, Granny?” 

think she did, Daisy Dare — those 
who seek in the right way usually find 
worth-while things, and in doing for 
others, forget self, and live content. 
Your story was a worth-while one.” 

Patty, her bright face bent eagerly 
above her work, nodded a silent acqui- 
escence, as Daisy started up quickly. 

think I’ll put away the dishes now, 
Granny — and I’ll ^make believe’ they 
are fairy cups and saucers, and that the 
way to the kitchen is rose-strewn. I 
think that will make the little task — 
beautiful/^ Grandmother Dinsmore 
laughingly agreed, as Daisy waved a 
triumphant good-bye from the door- 
way. 


123 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


“I’m glad you think she found the 
joy- road, Granny — very glad — and 
Patty is, too, I know, though she hasn’t 
said so!” 

Then, with waiter, fairy cups and 
all, held aloft, Daisy Dinsmore dis- 
appeared. 


“Oh, Patty, do you remember that 
afternoon when I was wishing so for 
great things to happen? Please shake 
me, Patty, right away, or else I’m 
afraid it may be a dream!” Daisy and 
Patty Dinsmore were on deck of the 
‘Falcon,’ on their way to England, and 
the little girls found it hard to believe, 
though Granny had explained many 
times. 

“I’ll shake you, Daisy Dare, though 
there isn’t any use, for you are not 
dreaming at alll^ 


124 


THE WHITE HOUSE 

Two weeks before, Grandmother 
Dinsmore had received a letter from 
across the water, from the very old 
friend — of whom she had told Daisy 
their godmother, whom, after Granny’s 
coming to America, she had lost sight 
of. The letter explained, how seven 
years before, at the time they left, she 
had read of the loss of the ship they 
were on, and believed that all had sunk 
with her. Then she had gone away to 
India, and Grandmother Dinsmore’s 
letters had never reached her, telling 
of how she, Patty and Daisy had been 
rescued by a passing ship, and brought 
on over. She was overjoyed at the news 
on reaching home, after a lapse of so 
many years, and was writing for her 
friend and little god-daughters to come 
over at once, as she was left alone in the 
world, with an ample support, and 
125 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


needed companionship sorely. Then 
had followed the letter saying they 
would come, and Patty and Daisy, 
wild with delight, flew around helping 
Granny all they could. At last, though, 
everything was finished, and with 
smiles and tears, too, they had set out 
from the old tenement house to embark 
on the “Falcon,” and sail away across 
the ocean. 

After Patty granted Daisy’s request, 
and she was quite sure that she was not 
dreaming, she spoke again. 

“I wonder if the chariot and footman 
will meet us, Patty — and our god- 
mother; I told you that godmothers 
were real, and now, you see, ours has 
come to life, and — everything is go- 
ing to — be gorgeous !” 

“I meant fairy ones, though, Daisy 
Dare; but I don’t believe that even 
126 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


your happiest fairy tale could be more 
lovely than our real story.” 

“I don’t believe so either — there’ll 
be green trees, and big gardens full of 
flowers, purple and gold pansies. Gran- 
ny says; row after row, bordering the 
brick walks, and birds too, Patty, that 
sing when one first opens her eyes, until 
the sun goes down in the west; it seems 
we have found the ‘Joy Road,’ too, as 
did the girl at the castle gate.” 

Patty, with the old-time gesture, 
dropped her face between her hands, 
and looked wistfully across the water. 

/^We have found it, Daisy Dare — 
oh, how I wish that all my dear people 
might have found it too! When I said 
something like that to Granny once, 
I remember, she talked to me of the 
Good Shepherd, who watches over all, 
so if they aren’t in the ‘Joy Road’ now. 


127 


THE WHITE HOUSE 


they will be some day. I prayed every 
night that Granny — and you and I, 
might sometime live where the trees 
and flowers and green things grew, and 
it has come; don’t you see?” 

Daisy nodded her head. “It came 
of your prayer, Patty; sometimes, when 
you thought I was asleep, I could hear 
you speaking softly to God.” The little 
girls looked into each other’s eyes un- 
derstandingly. 

“We shall not forget that, Daisy, 
shall we? And we’ll do our little tasks, 
and share our happiness with others in 
England as well as in America.” 

“Yes,” Daisy Dinsmore agreed, 
“we’ll share our Joy-lit way!” 



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